They avenge
by Httyd4eva
Summary: Basically just a Mora oneshot (also written Dec 2014 before Half Wild) since I figured they'd had to have SOME kind of back story.


I was twelve the first time I met her.

My father, Axel, and I were in England.

We were visiting from Switzerland, which was where most Black Witches lived, seeing as the few number of White Witches there meant there'd be no council.

Switzerland was a great place. It was where Witches came to escape the Council, even the White Witches there weren't so bad.

My father, disguised as a hawk, was watching the Council building when I spotted her.

Blonde, flowy hair, blue eyes with silver glints- _Cora_.

Of course, back then I didn't know her name, only that she was White and therefore a disgrace to the Witch race.

White Witches, they think they're _so_ clever. Blending in with Fains, being all 'goody-goody', but of course that was just propaganda. In _actual_ fact, White Witches were a lot more cruel than Black Witches, take the Council, for example. They _could_ just kill their victims like the Fains do, but _instead_ they choose to torture them for a month, before ending whatever's left of their pathetic lives.

They've killed all the members of my family for centuries, and one day I'd become a powerful Witch, a _very_ powerful Witch, and I'd tear down the White Witches' little 'Council' and show them all why you don't mess with an Edge.

But I'd need my gift for that, and that wouldn't happen for another five years.

It was common knowledge that every male in my family has the gift to turn into animals. It's a powerful gift, like all Black Witch gifts, one that _should_ keep you safe from the Council and their 'hunters', but, alas, with it, all the males in my line seemed to inherit an extra gift of extreme arrogance as well, leading to their capture.

But not me, no, I'd be careful. And then I'd show the White Witches, show them for _'good'_.

Anyways, back to her.

She was a White Witch, a pretty, soft-haired- _gah_! She was White, she was a disgrace. I am Black, I am honorable, I could never think of her in such a way, and when my father transformed into a horse form and beckoned me, I went over to him without a glance back, failing to notice the set of eyes on my back.

.

The next time I met her, I was thirteen.

My father, uncle and I had come to avenge my grandfather, Massimo.

The plan was to capture and kill the man who was in charge of the council back then, Richard O'Brien.

We were to attack at night. I had several hours to kill, so I decided to go on a walk, remembering to watch my back.

There she was, sitting on a bench, reading a book.

I scowled. I did _not_ like reading.

I _should've_ walked away, but something drew me to her.

I ended up sitting on the bench, next to her.

She didn't even look up from her book, "You're a Black Witch, aren't you?"

The words were stuck in my throat, so I nodded.

"And you're a White Witch," I stated, not as a question.

She nodded.

Some time passed.

"You know it's dangerous, right? Being out here, in broad sunlight, so close to the Council…"

I bit back a laugh.

"Why would you care?" I asked, "It'll just be one less Black Witch if they catch me."

A smile played on her lips, "Because it'd be a shame to lose such a pretty face with such… _interesting_ eyes."

Now it was my turn to smirk, "You think I'm pretty?"

She shrugged, "Well I don't think you're ugly. So tell me, young Whet, what's your name?"

I knew I shouldn't be divulging personal information, but something about her seemed so carefree, so laidback, so trusting, that I found myself telling her anyways.

"My name's Marcus, Edge," I said.

"Edge, I've heard that name…" she hummed, contemplatively, "Well," she tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear, "My name is Cora, Ashworth," she stuck out her hand, a surprisingly, I found myself shaking it.

.

I made several trips to England from then on to see her, snuck out so many times undetected.

I suspect my father knew what was going on, but he either:

a. didn't care

b. didn't mind

c. approved

or d. didn't know because I may've been mistaken.

Mercury knew, of course she did, that lady knows _everything_. And yet, surprisingly, she didn't do anything. I assume that she didn't really care as long as she and Mercy were left out of it. Damn she really loved her sister.

.

I was fourteen the first time we kissed.

We were roaming the woods and we stopped by a lake.

I looked at her and couldn't help but admire what I saw.

Her delicate, beautiful features basked in the soft light of the sun shining through the trees.

I couldn't help myself.

I leant in, brushed aside a stray strand of her hair, and kissed her.

Her body turned rigid for a bit, but she accepted the kiss and returned it with equal passion, though softer seeing as it was against her nature to be anything but gentle.

I was left breathless when we finished, and so was she.

We lay in silence by the lake for a little while, just watching the water…

.

That was not the last time I met her, nor was it the last time we kissed.

I felt myself falling for her, a dangerous thing too seeing as though she was a White Witch.

But nothing could tear me away from her for long.

Another man, Byrn, _also_ had his eyes on her. I wanted to kill him, but she begged me not to.

It all changed when I got my gift.

My giving ceremony was… small? Well, I suppose it was bigger than most Witches, even White ones.

It consisted of myself- the recipient; my father- the giver; my grandfather (mother's side), uncle (mother's side), Mercury, Mercy, Massimo, my mother, my aunt and my two cousins.

After that, it was time to put my plan into action.

Already knowing the gift I would have, it was easy to master it.

I soon became known as a murderer, killing powerful Witches and eating their hearts to gain their gifts.

My time with Cora waned, and I was reduced to seeing her once a year.

I knew I couldn't do this to her, I _loved_ her, and I didn't want her to spend all her time waiting, I refused to put her in danger.

And so it was, with a heavy heart, I told her she had to move on.

She'd cried when I'd left, I could hear it seeing as I'd waited.

As I was leaving, I bumped into her mother.

Her mother, whom id met on many an occasion. Her mother, who even though she didn't like me, didn't like the idea of her daughter being sad even more.

I nodded at her in greeting and she nodded back.

It was not too long after that I'd heard she had gotten married, to Byrn, of course.

I knew it was pointless, but still when the time came, I made my way back to our old hideout, and there she was, waiting.

She told me she was pregnant, that she was 'happy', but that she still loved me, and I told her that I still loved her.

A few months later she had her first child, a daughter, _Jessica_.

She looked remarkably like her mother, but acted a complete opposite.

Three years later, she had another daughter, Deborah, who was a _lot_ nicer than Jessica.

We started meeting at her place. She'd make sure her husband was out, send her kids to her mother's and it'd just be the two of us.

And finally, her last planned child, Arran. A boy who looked quite like her, and acted like her too.

Now that she and her husband had had a boy, they'd planned on not having anymore children.

Our lives were great. We'd meet up, chat, kiss, and then I'd leave. It all worked out perfectly. Until one day, that is, when her husband showed up unexpected.

He had the gift of being able to shoot fire from certain parts of his body, including his mouth, quite like my mother, Saba.

It wasn't that hard a fight.

I sent Cora out, a look of betrayal on Byrn's face, and froze time, before striking him with electricity, transforming into a wolf, and eating his heart.

That night, which we knew would probably be our last, we did something a little… different than usual. We did _it_.

I didn't know she'd be pregnant. I didn't know she'd give birth to a child who looked like me. And I didn't know she'd be forced to kill herself by the Council.

They'd pay, they'd all pay.

Jessica, of course, blamed Nathan for it, her juvenile mind finding a scapegoat in the one who wasn't 'like her' or her 'family'.

I remember crying a bit, but shaking it off. Black Witches don't cry, they avenge…

 **xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**

 **done!... Bye!**

 **-httyd4eva**

 **peace out yo;P**


End file.
